


Imperfection

by pene



Series: Imperfections [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:36:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pene/pseuds/pene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Experimenting outside my usual this is Dom/sub AU, Kurt working some sub magic and Blaine breezing in as a famous pop sweetheart of a dom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperfection

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyouloveyouhateyou to Corinna. All her fault.

Kurt rests two fingers on the barre and pauses before shifting his weight onto one leg to execute a precise pirouette. He’s playing Galatea and the role requires pirouettes. He doesn’t have it quite right yet. He bites his lip and tries again. He’s going to be perfect.

 

It’s a sub role, of course. And the dom he’s playing opposite is a little rough for Kurt’s taste. But Kurt has spent countless hours rehearsing the statue’s docile awakening, perfecting the blush and the gasp and the lowered glance at her master. He’s not going to let bruises from a thoughtless dom acting out an on-stage passion dull his accomplishment.

He leans his weight against the barre a little. There’s an ache in his ribs and fingerprint bruises on his buttocks and upper arms. He breathes through the pain, accepts it, lets it center him and fill him. Then he lifts his weight and spins flawlessly.

He doesn’t try to pin down precisely who it is he practices for. His audience, obviously. Himself too, perhaps.

**

Kurt matured later than many of his McKinley peers. He stood back in high school, kept himself apart and watched the intentional and unintentional cruelties doms and subs wreaked on one another. Even if there had been other gay boys, he knew he wouldn’t find the things he needed there. He longed for New York and fashion and the theater.

He didn’t lose that longing when maturity hit. But he gained an ache in his knees, a desire to defer to any half-proficient dom, a need for someone to hold him down and fill all the spaces in him. It felt frightening and it also felt deeply right.

So if Kurt was going to be a sub, and how throbbingly clear that was, he was going to be the perfect sub.

He didn’t need to practice obeying or deferring. Those pulsated inside him like bass notes. Instead he practiced the skills, in as much as it was possible: kneeling, saying Sir, taking cock.

In New York he met subs with long histories, with more dexterity and skill than he had. Subs that knew how to deepthroat and probably also how to avoid being thrown into a dumpster. He also met doms with more finesse than those at home. Enough finesse to make obeying and deferring a pleasure rather than just a physical necessity, something to resist. Enough finesse that he welcomed their advances, bent over for them with ease, took everything they gave. He was good at this. 

More and more he was talked about and noticed. In the NYADA halls he would sense doms holding their breath and flexing their sense of command in his direction. He smiled sweetly and let them try it on. 

Not all doms were refined.

“You’d look fucking gorgeous over my knee. Come home with me, sweetheart,” said one guy in dom/sub combat class. The ‘sweetheart’ was perfunctory. He was a crude boy, brutal in class. He reached to hold Kurt’s elbow with blunt fingers. This was not a boy Kurt had to work to resist, but it still wasn’t in him to shake off that rough hand.

“Thank you, but no,” said Kurt. The sub’s last safeguard is the ability to refuse.

The dom was ugly in his surprise. “Stuck up filly.” He spat the words. Kurt wiped his face.

When the guy left, Elliot said, “I understand how you feel, but you were cold, Kurt. It’s easier if you give them something. Make them feel like they made the decision.” He was the sub TA for the combat class.

Kurt liked Elliot. He was relaxed and experienced and it was obvious in everything about him that he was adored by his dom at home.

So Kurt took his advice, took it to another level. He learned to let himself look up through his lashes, let his cheeks flush. He made doms believe in themselves. Even doms he didn’t care for. He practiced biting his lip and shuddering under a touch. It was easy because it was the heart of him. He just needed a little acting to bring that side to the surface.

Months later Elliot watched him look demurely at an alarmingly handsy dom then step away with a sweet smile and perfect manners. Elliot said into his ear, “You don’t need to be flawless. You don’t have to hold it all together.”

But Kurt knew that he did.

**

Galatea is a sweet, sweet success. Kurt glows with the attention on him, with the number and variety of doms who approach him. Most of the time he blushes and smiles a no.

He has his own dressing room. 

“Blaine Anderson’s on his way up,” says the theater manager one night. “He saw the show and is determined to meet you.”

Kurt has heard of Blaine Anderson. Everyone has. He’s a teen pop star turned movie actor. A dom with charm and command, with kind, bold eyes. The only dom who’s ever played a switch character on screen.

The media was full of it afterwards. “Are you a switch yourself?” reporters said in hushed tones.

“No,” laughed Blaine easily. “But I’m not a detective either and I play one in the movie. And I’m not straight and yet several of my on-screen romances have been with women.” He seemed entirely sure of himself.

Of course, it was only other doms who asked the questions. Subs knew exactly what Blaine was, the very bones of them knew.

“Do you need me to protect your virtue, Kurt?” asks the manager. “I hear subs literally prostrate themselves when he walks into the room.”

Kurt feels a hum of nerves. The manager eyes him. He isn’t helping. Kurt has always found him faintly creepy anyway. “I think I can manage,” he says, and then, forgetting to be polite, “I’ll hold it together without you.” 

“They say you’re a cold one,” says the manager. “Guess they’re right.”

Kurt doesn’t have time to think about the slight, if it is one. He can hear someone approaching.

When Blaine enters Kurt leaves his eyes on the floor. It’s a habit he has developed, but this time it’s also entirely natural. Even Blaine’s footsteps have a command to them.

Blaine’s voice, however, is gentle. “Thank you for letting me in. I saw the play, Kurt. And I had to see you. But I need you to tell me if I’m intruding somehow.” Even his commands are mild. But somehow impossible to miss. It sends a shiver through Kurt.

“You’re not intruding,” says Kurt. “Not at all.” he allows himself a smile as he lifts his eyes. They meet Blaine’s. Kurt wavers. 

He has met a hundred doms, many taller and older and with more physicality and cockiness than this sweet-eyed boy. And yet now it takes all his hard-won restraint not to fall to his knees at Blaine’s feet. He drops his eyes again.

Blaine is watching him. He steps forward. “So beautiful,” he says, simply. His voice is warm and kind and profoundly certain but his breathing is shallow. He touches his fingertips to Kurt’s lower arm. Kurt takes a steadying breath then makes a choice. It feels brave. It feels like giving in. 

He looks up deliberately as he drops to his knees.

“Oh, sweetheart,” breathes Blaine looking down.

“I’ll be so good,” says Kurt. He doesn’t even try to stop his voice from trembling. “Please. Let me.”

“Fuck,” breathes Blaine, and unzips his fly.

Kurt doesn’t wait. He doesn’t need a command to know what Blaine wants. He leans forward to lap against Blaine’s boxer briefs, sucking messy, wet kisses so the material clings to Blaine’s quickly hardening cock. 

Blaine flicks the waistband of his underwear down to rest below his balls and sets his legs apart. Kurt can see his muscles flex under his pants. His cock springs up, thick and damp with pre-come as it bobs against Kurt’s face. Kurt’s mouth waters. It’s been a long time since he wanted anything this much. Maybe his whole life. He moans happily and opens his mouth to swallow Blaine down.

Blaine’s cock bumps against the back of Kurt’s throat as he groans openly and thrusts just once into Kurt’s mouth. It brings tears to Kurt’s eyes and he opens his throat as much as he can, lets the few tears drip down his face. He gasps and draws breath then opens his throat again.

Blaine looks down at him. His breathing is even, though Kurt can feel the tension in him, feel the way he wants to fuck and fuck into Kurt’s mouth. Instead Blaine holds still. “You really are perfect,” he says. Kurt knows he is, has spent years working on it. Blaine goes on, “You were gorgeous on stage. I saw you and I knew. But you’re even better in person.” 

And however much Kurt has practiced for this, it’s a joy to hear from the lips of a dom… this dom. He lets Blaine deeper, sucks at Blaine’s cock. And Blaine holds onto his head, holds Kurt forward and pushes over and over into his mouth. Blaine takes everything Kurt wants to give. 

When Blaine comes it gushes down Kurt’s throat. Kurt can’t swallow fast enough and some escapes at the edge of his mouth. As Blaine’s cock softens Kurt lets it fall from his mouth. He sighs. He drops back onto his heels then blinks up and watches as Blaine tucks himself into his pants. He feels sleepy and content, like he could stay kneeling here in his dressing room forever. He carefully places his hands on his thighs. 

Blaine crouches in front of him, rests his hands on his own thighs and leans to kiss Kurt’s mouth, deep and long. 

“Can you stand up for me, sweetheart?” he asks after a moment. 

Kurt nods and does so. Blaine touches his arm to ensure Kurt’s attention. 

“Are you okay to get yourself home?”

Kurt nods again, remembers his manners. “Yes, thank you.”

“Good boy,” says Blaine. “Here. I’ll put my number in your phone. Let me know you’re okay before you sleep. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t forget anything,” says Kurt, then blushes. It’s too soon and too much.

“Beautiful boy,” says Blaine. He smiles and Kurt knows he’s done nothing wrong. “Next time I’ll give you even more reason to remember me. Would you like that?”

“Yes, please,” says Kurt. He can’t stop himself from sounding eager. 

“Let me know that you’re home safe, Kurt. ”

Blaine kisses him again, then leaves without looking back. The door closes softly behind him. Kurt cleans up. As he leaves through the theater he can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He honestly doesn’t care.

**

The next night Blaine opens the door of his hotel room and leans against the frame. He looks gorgeous, compact and muscular and so very certain of himself. 

“Tell me why you’re here,” he says in greeting.

“Because you invited me,” says Kurt and seeing that Blaine wants more, “and because I want to be.”

Blaine smiles and steps backward into the room. Kurt follows him. Of course.

When Blaine stops in the middle of the room Kurt steps forward uncertainly. Blaine tugs him close, kisses his way up Kurt’s neck. He sucks on the edge of Kurt’s jaw. Kurt’s brain shudders to a halt. He moves his hips forward, thrusts in to rub against Blaine.

“Hold on, sweetheart. I have plans for you. Just hold on.”

It’s all come so fast. Just seeing Blaine and Kurt’s body is begging to be filled. His ass is empty and aching for it. He longs to bear down and be split open. 

“Please,” he murmurs and loves how it sounds in his mouth.

“All in good time,” says Blaine. There’s a smile in his voice and it’s all for Kurt. 

He starts undressing Kurt. Standing apart from him, too far apart, and undoing his buttons to slip his shirt smoothly off his shoulders. The air ripples against Kurt’s skin. Blaine’s fingers move to his pants. He unzips them and slips them down, taking Kurt’s briefs with them. 

Kurt stands naked. Blaine eyes him with undisguised lust. And how Kurt wants this, his whole self throbs with it. Blaine looks him up and down, slow inch by slow inch, and Kurt’s body feels like it’s going to explode.

When Kurt can’t wait any more he drops his eyes and turns away. He bends over the desk against the wall, lifting his ass in the air. 

“Please. Please, Sir,” he says. It’s the first time he’s used ‘Sir’ and he hears Blaine’s sharp intake of breath. “Please, Sir,” Kurt tries again. “I want you so much. I’ll be perfect for you.”

Blaine approaches. Kurt feels the anticipation dance up his spine. Blaine rests a hand across Kurt’s ass cheeks.

“Kurt,” he says. His voice comes out low and rough but there’s a firmness there too. Implacable. Unbreakable. “Kurt. I’m not going to fuck you. Not now.” Kurt tries to move but Blaine holds him in place. Kurt mewls a little and Blaine’s hand presses him down harder. “God knows I want to, but I need you to learn that you cannot just present your ass to me and expect me to react. You cannot refer to me as Sir to force my hand.” 

Kurt whimpers a little, feeling Blaine’s displeasure in every nerve. 

“Kurt, I want to be the person you call Sir. I have every intention of being that person. But I won’t have it used against me.” 

It hits Kurt hard. Because of course Blaine is right. Which means Kurt is wrong, has done wrong. And that hurts. 

Kurt tries to raise his head and turn to look, to apologize, to beg for forgiveness for all the ways he’s holding onto control. For all the ways he’s acting like a sub but not submitting at least, not all the way. But Blaine presses him down against the desk with a hand at his shoulder blades and it’s moot.

“Understand me. I only want you to call me Sir when it’s torn out of you.”

Kurt nods his head against the desk. 

“I need to punish you,” Blaine says. He runs a hand across Kurt’s buttocks then steps away. Kurt stays in place. He’s not sure he could move.

From across the room Blaine says, “I have a strap here which I plan to use. But because we’re not bound to one another I need you to approve this punishment.”

Kurt nods again miserably against the desk. “Yes,” he manages. “Yes.”

“Five strikes,” says Blaine. “Just five. Because you didn’t know.”

Kurt nods again. As Blaine approaches his nerves prickle. Blaine doesn’t make him wait.

The first blow stings, sharp and hot against his naked skin. The slap of it is loud in the quiet room. It stuns him. Blaine counts, steadily. “One.” The second strike bites deeper. Kurt inhales sharply on a sob and releases the breath smoothly, steadying himself. The third is a dazzle of nerves and skin. Kurt listens to Blaine’s voice, counting. There’s a rhythm to it. He breathes, lets the sensations daze him slightly. He steps away from the feeling and deep into himself. The fourth strike is a faint brightness, a pain that’s more sadness and need. The fifth blow is just a far away number.

“Kurt.” It’s Blaine’s distant voice. “Sweetheart. God, you are so beautiful.”

He hears Blaine’s breathing, feels Blaine’s hand soft against his skin. He tries to feel his way back toward him. He wants to thank him, wants to throw himself down before him and give him everything.

“I can’t fuck you when you’re spaced out like this,” says Blaine softly. “I can’t take that from you. However gorgeous you are. However much I feel like we both need something more.” 

Kurt tries to disagree. Tries to move. Tries to demonstrate his enthusiastic consent through the haze of subspace. He has spent years practicing, learning all the skills of being a sub. He’s not going to let this deep, dizzied contentment stop his Dom from taking all the things he knows are right.

Blaine puts an arm about Kurt and half carries half leads him to the bed.

“Blaine,” says Kurt slowly as he lies down. He feels the smart of stinging skin against the bed covers and uses it to focus his mind. “Can I speak? Please?”

“Always,” says Blaine.

Kurt’s voice still feels muddled but he speaks steadily. “May I call you, Sir?” he asks. There is no show to it.

Blaine stands over him, looks him steadily in the eye. It’s both reassuring and frightening. “You may.”

Everything is a fog but there’s a truth underneath and Kurt is desperate to express it. “Sir, I trust you. When I first saw you I trusted you. And each time you take me and use me and break me you are going to leave me whole, and trusting you more than before. It’s never going to be a question of whether I trust you with my body.” Kurt pauses for a long moment to gather his thoughts. “It’s also about you trusting me. Trusting my consent, my capacity for consent and my um…” He blushes, unthinking. “My eagerness. Even when I seem far gone. Trust is hard and it doesn’t go one way. I need you to trust me too. You will never take things I don’t wholly want to give you.”

Blaine nods steadily. His eyes are golden and approving and Kurt feels the heavy joy of his pleasure. 

Blaine looks at him softly for a long time. “It’s my responsibility to care for you.”

“Yes. And you’re doing that.”

Blaine takes a breath. His eyes are sweet and clear on Kurt’s. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says. He leans back and looks over Kurt into the distance. Kurt waits. He still wants everything, wants to give everything. But there’s no impatience, no need to press for it. 

Eventually, “Up on your hands and knees please, Kurt.”

Kurt rolls over eagerly. Lifts his body and lets his mind slide hazily toward pleasure. He hears Blaine reach to slip a condom on, hears the lube. It’s all far away and blurred with distance. 

And then Blaine pushes his way inside Kurt, like everything Kurt wanted, slow and deep. So deep it shifts everything. Blaine’s hips press and grind against the painful skin of Kurt’s ass. The sting of it flickers in Kurt’s brain. Kurt lifts his ass, arches his back to give better access. There’s no way he could stop the moan that vibrates long in his chest. 

Blaine starts moving all the way inside him. Each thrust is everything Kurt needs. Over and over for minutes or hours or days. It’s just them.

And Blaine comes, panting and forceful and so very sweet. He’s everywhere. Kurt lets go.


End file.
